Kiss Me Kill Me Handers Collection
by DreamersEclipse
Summary: A kiss, a touch, a laugh, a tear, a lie, a love. A collection of oneshots and drabbles between Hawke and Anders from heartbreaking confrontations to the moments that make you laugh. (Requests accepted. In Progress work, ratings and genres vary.)
1. Flame and Shadow

**A/N:** So I compiled a little bit of some Hawke/Anders oneshots and drabbles and figured I'd leave them here for people to read and enjoy. Some will be angst, some will be fluff, some will be comedy and some may have a mix. None will be connected to the others unless I say otherwise. Ratings will vary from ficlet to ficlet. Also, warning, I am a cheeseball when it comes to my pairings – so, yes, I know that the fluff can get pretty sweet but I can't help it.

I'm happy to accept requests as well if you have something for me! Whether it's a song lyric that makes you think of Handers or a prompt you wish to see. Or you want a specific genre of ficlet. Hope you guys enjoy.

Reviews worshiped. Flames used to roast marshmallows.

**Disclaimer**: (for entire thing) I do not own Dragon Age...it is Bioware's baby and sometimes I babysit...

**Prompt:** "A dance of flames and shadow in the street."

**Title**: Flame and Shadow

**Summary**: He was anticipating the feel of a blade sliding into the flesh between his shoulders of his lower back. A stab in the back like he had done to Hawke.

*Story Start*

There was a dance of flame and shadow in the street. The smell of smoke and burning cinder- he randomly noted how the smog coming from Lowtown was non-existant with so much fire cleansing the air and sending the pollutants skyward in black clouds that made the stars disappear.

He could recall spending many of his nights cold, starving and scared that the Templars would drag him back to the Tower any day but at least he had the night sky. The sky was something he loved and he couldn't understand why no one else appreciated such a marvel that they got to look up at every day of their lives. How one look at the expanse of never ending stars could cure his soul and one night laying in the grass of a large open field bloody and bruised from a particularly rough escape he couldn't help but think, 'This is what freedom is.'

Off in the distance he could hear screaming. It didn't matter who it was that was letting loose such blood curdling sounds. Mages dying by Templar hands or Templars dying by mage hands…or civilians caught in the crossfire. They were all guilty. Every single one of them.

His insides were tearing themselves apart but he couldn't regret it. Wouldn't let himself because he knows that he'd do it a hundred times over if it provoked the change that Thedas needed. He couldn't feel ashamed of his actions even if millions of innocents blood spilled on his hands, which it has and which it will.

'What were a few more deaths?' He reasoned to himself. 'Now the other side can finally suffer the causalities we have.' It made him feel sick, these thoughts. Anger and indignation churning inside of him tearing his thoughts back and forth from guilt to pride and he wasn't sure if they were both his emotions or one of them belonged to Justice or neither of them and of those which would be the worst.

He heard Hawke's footsteps behind him and he braced himself for a stab in the back. A stab in the back like he had done to the love of his life, the only person in existence who took him for all his faults and told him he was still beautiful and worthy of love. It broke his heart to do this but his heart meant nothing compared to the lives of all mages.

Instead of the sharp pain of a knife sliding into the flesh of his lower back he found himself being hugged as if he were some sort of anchor. Which made no sense because he was anything but stable.

"Where will we draw the line, Anders?" Hawke whispered quietly in his ear – a voice that for the first time ever sounded unsure.

Anders couldn't answer and his shoulders sagged in the embrace as he sobbed silently with tears running down his gritty cheeks.


	2. Lift

**Prompt:** "You lift my spirits." ~ Lift by Poets of the Fall

**Title**: Lift

**Summary**: A secret getaway on a starry night. It's always the little things.

**Rating**: K+

*Story Start*

"Hawke," Anders tried to speak once more but was quickly hushed by the other man.

"We're almost there." Came the rather gleeful sounding reply.

The mage sighed tiredly. He didn't have time for this. Maker, he loved Hawke to the ends of the world but there were more important things to be doing besides following Hawke around blindly (literally because he had a blindfold over his eyes and what did that say about his trust of this man?).

He could feel the rocks under his feet, the crunch of dry grass from time to time- pokey and harsh. They had been walking a little over an hour now and while they've been going at a mild pace there was hardly any slowing down. They could be any number a places an hours walk from the city and just as Kirkwall was unpleasant the land surrounding it was equally such.

Anders noted how his hand felt warm in Hawke's as the man led him about. He still felt…odd about it. Holding hands. Being with a man who loved him. Hawke would do it at the most random of times to. After a particularly draining battle he would just laugh, beam at him as though he found fifty sovereigns sitting on the ground and say, "I love you." Or sometimes when they were traveling about Kirkwall, Hawke's hand would slip into his for undecipherable intervals of times. Sometimes for a five second quick squeeze and other times they would make it all the way to the next section of the city.

Some would describe love as this coiling tension; like a tightening in one's stomach or 'butterflies flapping' making you nauseous. But for Anders it felt more like a release of pressure. Like the burden and weight on his shoulders was just lifted off. One touch, one smile, one look and his spirits were lifted even if just a little bit.

Finally they came to a stop, the sounds of cicadas loud in his ears and a salty warm wind brushing past them. "Here we are." Hawke said in a soft voice. Nimble fingers full of warmth and cunning undid the blindfold and Anders looked around them at their surroundings.

"The Wounded Coast, Hawke? We've been here a million times."

The other man grinned at him and the image sent a pleasant burning heat in his chest, "Yeah but this time is different because we haven't run into any bandits…yet. And we hopefully will not." He joked then took hold of Anders' chin between his thumb and index finger to tilt his head to look up at the sky.

His breath caught in his throat as he took in the night sky bursting with light. It was magnificent. Thousands upon thousands of stars glistening on the black blanket of night. One shot across the sky, quick, brilliant and beautiful. "Maker." He said quietly in awe because really, it had been such a long time since he was able to take a moment and appreciate a sight that was once such a big motivator in his life to escape the tower.

Hawke chuckled lightly, having taken a step back from him. The rogue put down the satchel he was holding on the ground and withdrew a hide blanket from within. While he set them up a cozy spot to sit Anders took in the rest of the area around them.

It was an area that he had never been to before. Although he recognized the general area located somewhere in the south of the Wounded Coast there was a different layout of falling and rising dirt paths surrounding them and a strange looking weed that grew better in the shade of the treacherous rocky slopes.

Anders walked out to the edge of the cliff and glanced out at the dark sea, like a pitchblack pool that tried to swallow the light of the stars and moon in its malevolent currents. He could hear the rustling waves although he could barely see anything in the darkness of the Black Sea.

"Hey," Hawke called and Anders looked over at him curiously- glad to tear his gaze from the abyss so close, "Come sit down with me."

Anders carefully made his way to the blanket, and slid down next to Hawke. He sat with his arm touching Hawke's; so close that he could enjoy the heat radiating off of the other man. The rogue twined his fingers with the mage's and held on with a loose firmness that has become such an anchoring yet freeing feeling in his life.

They sat quietly listening to the sounds of the Wounded Coast and the Black Sea- just watching the stars overhead. Enjoying the peace of the moment was a rare thing. So rare in fact that he couldn't remember if they had ever seen the Coast without any blood spilled all across the saw dust dirt of the ground. Or for that matter when the last time was that he was able to even see the night sky. Because of all the pollution of Kirkwall it was nigh impossible. Even in Hightown they were still nothing but dull dusty specks occasionally glimmering like dying candles somewhere behind the veneer of smog.

"I love you." Anders said and unintended it came out as a whisper.

Hawke looked down at him although it was hard to see the man's features he knew there was an affectionate smile on his lips. His hand was squeezed. "I love you too."

And his stomach gave an odd churn as his spirits were lifted high once more.


	3. Broom Closets

**Title**: Broom Closets

**Summary**: Hawke is innocent and Isabella so loves corrupting those blushing virgin types. Good thing there's a sexy apostate mage on hand.

**Rating**: T

*Story Start*

They had been talking about an encounter that Hawke had had earlier in having ran into some old friends on another one of Kirkwall's many 'chores'. Somehow the attention had turned to Anders during the course of the conversation. He was forced to talk about the friends he had in the Tower. A topic of which he didn't care to talk about since the only real friend he had was Karl and everyone else was either a prank subject or a prank accomplice.

"If I bumped into the friends I once had in the tower on the street they'd find some reason to disappear as soon as possible. I know this because they took measure to avoid me on the one floor that we shared. Which is not so easy to do considering we shared living quarters that sometimes felt more like a broom closet than a bedroom and believe me I've been stuffed into enough broom closets to know the difference." Anders told them.

"What were you doing in a broom closet? Hawke asked curiously. Compared to the gleam in Isabella's eyes it was virgin in its innocence.

The Rivaini leaned her head into her hand and used a purring tone to say, Ooh you must have found some useful hardware in there."

Anders rolled his eyes. Hawke just tilted his head in a confused bird like fashion. "That's not the point I was trying to make."

"Oh believe me darling they're not all that hard to make. And it's only after you make them that they're hard."

Hawke gave a noise of annoyance and slumped in his chair somewhat, "What? Is she talking dirty again? Agh, I hate it when you guys leave me out of the loop."

"You poor innocent fool." Isabella said with great pity on her features. "We need to get you laid. Anders, you're up, darling!"

"What?!" Anders flinched in shock. "Why me? And what do you mean 'you're up'? This isn't a damn brothel check list!"

Hawke's face was as red as raw lyrium. "L-laid?"

Isabella was just laughing evilly. "I already tried to get in Hawke's pants. And it's obvious the poor sod only has eyes for a certain apostate." She winked, downing some of the strong rum she had from her flask.

Said certain apostate's face burned with embarrassment as he slunk down in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at their residential pirate pervert.

That was how the rest of their group found them. Isabella laughing like a drunken idiot poking fun at two red faced warriors (one who looked like he was about to faint of embarrassment and the other about to throw fireballs left and right).

"Oh, Verric, I think Hawke and Anders are sick! Look how red their faces are." Merrill exclaimed with worry etching her gentle features.

Bethany rolled her eyes. "Bella, didn't we talk about tainting my innocent older brother?"

"My, my," Verric tsked at the scene before him, "This whole charade loses its humor after the hundredth time. Wouldn't you agree, Elf?" Fenris only growled in response.

Everyone's attention went to Isabella who had slammed both hands down on the table. "That's it! We're putting an end to this blushing virgin nonsense right this minute. Come on you two. Kitten, Bethy Dear, will you both be dolls and help me lock these two into a broom closet?" She got behind Hawke, wrenching him from his seat and holding him in a vice grip with one hand twisted behind his back.

"Ouch. Ouch. Ouch! Bella, what're you doing." A slightly drunk Hawke was a slightly useless Hawke and he couldn't break the hold even if he wanted to.

Bethany was smiling evilly as she went on Anders' left and a confused but compliant Merrill went on his right. They lifted him to his feet, making him let out a surprised gasp. "You are not dragging me into this! Merrill, Bethany, let me go."

"Hee Hee Hee, no and you better not struggle or I'll put a paralyzing spell on you. I learned from the best." Threatened Sunshine in a cheery voice that promised nothing good.

"Sorry Anders." Merrill stated s they followed behind Isabella, tossing Anders in right after a stumbling Hawke into the broom closet right outside of Verric's suite. The dward did his part of course in forking over the key to lock the door with a smug look on his face and a gleaming mischief in his eyes that promised a written version of these events later.

The two got a little tangled up in each other, darkness making it ten times more difficult to maneuver in the cramped space. When they were reasonably standing on their own two feet they discovered that the space sort of forced them to be so close their chests were touching and the heat radiating off of the other was very noticeable.

"S-sorry about all this, Anders."

Anders sighed, the annoyance for everyone else but the man standing in front of him burning. "It's not your fault, Hawke. We're in the same boat…or closet."

There was a lengthy little silence between them before Hawke finally broke it. "Sooo…what did you used to do in a broom closet? This seems a tad dull to me."

The mage grinned and shook his head. "You're seriously that innocent, Hawke? By the Maker, I can't wrap my head around it…Want me to show you?"

In a confused tone Hawke hesitantly told him, "Sure." Then he had an armful of apostate and a mouth on his own. By the time they were finally let out of the closet both of them had rumpled clothes and hair with the biggest most stupid of grins plastered on their face. All their friends cheered (except for Fenris), whooping and whistling at the two.

"Broom closets are kind of fun." Hawke told Anders when they were seated next to each other, a flagon of ale in front of them.

Anders smirked deviously, "You should see what we can get away with in a Chantry alcove."


	4. Broken is Better than Shattered

**Prompt:** "Sometimes I say things just to disagree." ~ Could it Be by Stained

**Title**: Broken is Better than Shattered

**Summary:** Sometimes living in constant conflict is the only way to avoid fatal injury.

**Rating**: K+/T

*Story Start*

"Why do you always have to pick a fight with me?" Hawke asks with a hurt and broken expression. Anders' gut twists painfully and he knows deep down why and he just wishes so badly that Hawke would yell at him, curse him, beat him- anything but look at him like that. Anything but love him. He turns his head away from those imploring eyes that always seem to read him and touch him in ways no other ever has.

"Anders." Hawke pleads, stalking up right in front of him, "Just talk to me, please."

The apostate bites the inside of his cheek and tries to hold back the tears. He can't do this. He was never that strong. Not strong enough to stop himself falling for this wonderful, beautiful person and now he isn't strong enough to walk away or even offer his love the benefit of the doubt. And constantly being loved, forgiven, healed by Hawke hurt so much more. So he had to push the boundaries, disagree even when it didn't matter because he had to keep himself on edge. Make Hawke hate him so that when the time came it wouldn't shatter his heart because broken was better than shattered.

Broken was fixable. Broken was manageable.

"No, Hawke." He said and turned to leave the room, to run down to the clinic and ignore everything in his life besides healing the occupants of Darktown.

A hand grabbed his arm a little painfully and jerked him around to meet burning brown eyes full of hurt. "Don't run away from me, Anders. Just don't. That's all you do is run. I'm sick and tired of this endless back and forth. Either your running yourself into the ground, never telling me anything- making me worry out of my mind or you're here with me and we're fighting about the smallest of things." Hawke let go, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I swear by the Maker sometimes…Sometimes I feel like you say things just to disagree with me. Can't you see, Anders." His cheeks were cupped in two warm affectionate hands and he could feel his own eyes watering, threatening to spill over. It felt like his heart was breaking. Always breaking, always breaking, always breaking.

Better than shattered.

"I love you." Hawke told him and Anders tried not to choke on a sob. "I want to fix things between us. But I can't do it all on my own. I need you to want to fix things too."

Why did he have to be so weak? Anders wondered of himself. Justice's voice echoed in his head, chastising him and reproaching him for all of this foolhardy. He was there in the corners of his mind telling him that this was foolish and stupid and Anders agreed with him. Agreed with all his heart but he was such a weak man and looking at Hawke he wondered if strength would be letting go or holding on.

"Anders?" Hawke pressed him, thumbs caressing the skin near his eyes.

Anders picked out the closest thing possible to warp into worded barbs and opened his mouth, "There's nothing to fix, Hawke, because it can't be fixed." He pulled away from the hold, ignored the pain that seeing that broken broken broken expression on Hawke's face brought forth and walked out. Because he was weak. Because he was broken. And broken was so much better than shattered.

**A/N**: I do most of these drabbles through song and book challenges. You pick up a random book (or specific, whatever), go to a random page and just aim your finger at a random line that serves as your prompt. As for songs, same principle. Put your music on shuffle and click a random spot on the song (in the fast forward function) and use the line that it says (or just use the whole song as your theme). It's a fun way to write and come up with ideas if your muse is running low. Thanks for reading!


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